THE CHAOS I CALL HOME
1789 Words
There are a few things that can yank you out of a dream faster than an alarm clock.
One of them is having cold water dumped on your face at 7:46 a.m. on a Saturday morning.
I woke up to an ice-cold splash and the sound of pure demonic laughter.
“WAKE UP, PRINCESS SLEEPYHEAD!”
“Jeremiah! Are you actually insane?!” I shot up, drenched and shivering. My hair was clinging to my forehead like seaweed.
Beside him stood my other brother, Eli, proudly holding up his phone, already filming. “This is going on the family group chat.”
“You’re both actual menaces,” I grumbled, pushing my soaked duvet off.
Jeremiah, my oldest brother, had the audacity to look pleased. “We had to wake you somehow. Mum said to be gentle, but your alarm has been going off for twenty minutes, and I’m not wasting my Saturday listening to that thing beep like it's defusing a bomb.”
“It was on vibrate!” I snapped.
“Exactly. Terrifying.”
They high-fived.
I glared at them like I was mentally setting their beds on fire. “You’re both going to regret this.”
“Aw,” Eli cooed, backing away, “She’s threatening violence. Our baby’s growing up.”
Jeremiah chuckled, completely unbothered. “You’ve got ten minutes before Mum comes up. And she’s making pancakes.”
“Why didn’t you just start with that?!” I flung a pillow, which Eli expertly dodged. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“Love you too, squirt!” they chorused, and exited like the professional chaos agents they were.
---
By the time I made it downstairs — hair dry-ish, hoodie oversized, slippers fluffy — the smell of pancakes, bacon, and coffee had filled the house like a warm hug.
Mum was at the stove flipping pancakes with the grace of a pancake queen. She was humming a song all under her breath, wearing her “Saturday Mood: Don’t Ask Me Anything” t-shirt.
Dad was sitting at the dining table with his glasses pushed up to his forehead, deep in a crossword puzzle, sipping from his "World’s Okayest Dad" mug.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Mum said without looking up. “Hope your brothers didn’t kill you.”
“They’re on thin ice,” I said, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “But you’re saving lives with these pancakes.”
“Tell your stomach that,” she smirked. “Because your hair looks like it went to war.”
I rolled my eyes and made my way to the table. Jeremiah and Eli were already there, halfway through their second servings, looking smug and full of brotherly mischief.
Dad peered over his glasses. “Morning, Nini.”
“Morning, Dad.”
“I heard the shriek,” he said dryly. “Assumed your brothers were being creative again.”
“Creative is one word,” I muttered.
Jeremiah raised a brow. “You’re lucky I didn’t use the airhorn this time.”
“You what?”
Eli grinned. “It’s hidden under my bed for emergencies.”
I glared. “What kind of emergencies?”
“Like if the house is on fire. Or if Arsenal wins the league.”
“I hate all of you.”
“We know,” they said in unison.
---
The rest of the morning was filled with typical Saturday chaos: music blasting from Eli’s room (Afrobeats and random K-drama soundtracks), Jeremiah yelling at the TV because Chelsea was losing again, and Mum yelling at him to stop yelling. Dad pretended to be reading but was clearly eavesdropping on everything, occasionally inserting dry commentary like a low-budget narrator.
I escaped to my room around noon and flopped on my bed with a dramatic sigh.
That's when my phone buzzed.
Rivy 🤪: I’m coming over. Prepare the snacks or face death.
Me: Snacks are ready. I live in fear.
Rivy 🤪: As you should.
Fifteen minutes later, Rivy burst into my room like a force of nature, wearing oversized sunglasses and carrying a tote bag that said Emotional Baggage. She kicked off her slides and collapsed on my bed dramatically.
“Your brothers are psychopaths. One of them just threw a grape at my head.”
“Welcome to my life,” I said sweetly. “You’re not even blood-related. I have no escape.”
She sat up. “Anyway, tell me everything. How are you feeling after the whole... Kai situation?”
I blinked. “What situation?”
She gave me the look.
“Okay fine,” I said. “It was... nice. Weird. But nice. His friends were chill. And he walked me to the bus stop.”
Rivy squealed like she’d just won a lifetime supply of bubble tea. “Oh my gosh, this is major. MAJOR. You’ve crushed on this guy since—what—forever, and now you’re having actual moments?!”
“I’m trying not to spiral,” I admitted.
“Too late. You’ve already spiraled, fallen off the cliff, and landed in Kai-land.”
“You’re not helpful.”
“I am very helpful,” she said, flopping back. “I’m keeping you grounded.”
“By mocking me?”
“Exactly.”
---
We spent the next hour snacking on chin chin and watching random TikToks until my mum knocked on the door.
“Nini, do you girls want to come shopping with me?”
Rivy shot up. “YES. Can we pick out snacks?”
Mum smiled. “That’s the plan.”
Jeremiah popped his head into the hallway. “If you’re going to Shoprite, get me Pringles.”
“You have legs,” Mum replied.
“But I don’t have the spirit.”
She rolled her eyes and grabbed her purse.
---
At the mall, Rivy and I immediately turned into unserious humans.
We tried on ugly sunglasses, argued over which cereal box mascot had the most riz (I said Tony the Tiger, she said the Coco Pops monkey), and took selfies next to giant cardboard cutouts of celebrities we both mildly hated.
In the skincare aisle, Rivy said, “Imagine running into Kai right now.”
“Why would you speak that into the universe?” I hissed.
“Because it would be cinematic.”
“I look like a gremlin.”
“You look cute. Like a sleepy gremlin. He’d love it.”
I threw a face mask packet at her. “You’re evil.”
She grinned. “You love me.”
“Unfortunately.”
---
When we got back home, it was golden hour. The house smelled like fried rice. Mum had made extra, and Jeremiah was already hovering like a shark waiting for a feeding opportunity.
Rivy and I took our food to the back porch and sat cross-legged on the floor, letting the evening breeze cool us down.
She looked at me. “You seem lighter today.”
I blinked. “Really?”
“Yeah. Like... you’re not overthinking as much. You’re just... being.”
I let that sit for a second. “I think... I needed this.”
“Me or the pancakes?”
“Both.”
We clinked forks in a toast. “To chaotic mornings and peaceful evenings.”
“To friendship and face masks.”
“To the boy who makes your brain short-circuit.”
“Rivy!”
She cackled.
And for once, I didn’t mind.
Later that evening, after Rivy had gone home with a promise to FaceTime me during her skincare routine, I curled up on the living room sofa, half-watching whatever rom-com my mum had put on. She was on her favorite armchair, wrapped in her Ankara-print shawl, laughing at a joke that had just barely landed.
Dad had disappeared into the kitchen to find his “late-night tea,” which somehow always came with two slices of cake and no tea at all.
Jeremiah and Eli were arguing over the TV remote again.
“I’m not watching yet another documentary about space!” Eli groaned.
Jeremiah narrowed his eyes. “This one is about black holes. The ultimate mystery of the universe. Respect it.”
“I’m literally a black hole of interest. Zero care given.”
“Philosophical. But no.”
“Children,” Mum called, “I will switch off the entire TV if you don’t pick something in the next ten seconds.”
They went quiet.
“I vote romantic comedy,” I said.
Jeremiah groaned.
Eli sighed. “You’re lucky I like your taste in food, Nini.”
I grinned.
Eventually, we settled on some weird crime show where every character looked suspicious from the start. It was probably the least relaxing thing we could have watched before bed, but the shared commentary made it worth it.
Mum kept guessing who the killer was (“It’s the driver. It’s always the driver.”). Dad came back with his cake (“Don’t ask questions.”). Jeremiah got into a deep argument about plot holes. Eli fell asleep halfway, mouth wide open, snoring like he was fighting demons in his dreams.
It was kind of perfect.
---
By 10:45 p.m., the house was quiet again.
I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing my teeth and replaying the day like a highlight reel. Waking up soaked. Pancakes. Rivy. Shopping. Laughter. Porch breeze. Fried rice. Family noise.
And somewhere in the back of my mind, Kai.
I couldn’t help it. His voice came back to me, soft and oddly careful: “I hope you feel safe around us.”
I rinsed my mouth and stared at my reflection. What did I want from him, really?
No — what did I want from myself?
I padded to my room and crawled into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin. My fairy lights cast a soft glow across the ceiling, making the room feel like a safe cocoon.
I grabbed my phone and opened my Notes app. There was a folder in there called Brain Dump Zone, and inside it, a note titled Stuff I Will Never Say Out Loud.
I typed:
today was loud.
in the best way.
i didn’t think about being enough or not being enough.
i just... laughed. ate. lived.
i want more days like this.
and maybe
maybe
i want to stop being scared of being seen.
I stared at the blinking cursor for a while, then closed the app and tucked the phone under my pillow.
Outside, the night hummed. The breeze danced through the slightly open window. Somewhere down the hallway, Eli snored again.
And in the quiet, I smiled.
- Writer
